Cathy Glass - The Night the Angels Came

‘No,’ I agreed. ‘I think that was wise of you.’

There was a small silence as Patrick sipped his water and I watched him from across the room. I liked Patrick – both as a person and a man. Already I had formed the impression that he was kind and caring, as well as strong and practical, and despite his illness his charisma and charm shone through. I could picture him out drinking with the lads and chasing women in his twenties, as he’d said he had at the meeting, and then being a loyal and supportive husband and proud father.

‘I think you are doing incredibly well,’ I said. ‘I’m sure I wouldn’t cope so well.’

‘You would if you had to, Cathy,’ he said, looking directly at me. ‘You’d be as strong as I’ve had to be – for the sake of your children. But believe me, in my quieter moments, in the early hours of the morning when I’m alone in my bed and I wake in pain and reach for my medication, I have my doubts. Then I can get very angry and ask the good Lord what he thinks he’s playing at.’ He threw me a small smile.

‘And what does the good Lord say?’ I asked lightly, returning his smile.

‘That I must have faith, and Michael will be well looked after. And I can’t disagree with that because he’s sent us you.’

I felt my emotion rise and also the enormity and responsibility of what I’d taken on. ‘I’ll do my best,’ I said, ‘but I’m no angel.’

‘You are to me.’

I looked away, even more uncomfortable that he was placing me on a pedestal. ‘Is there really no hope of you going into remission?’ I asked quietly.

‘Miracles can happen,’ Patrick said, ‘but I’m not counting on it.’

There was silence as we both concentrated on the floor and avoided each other’s gaze. ‘I hope I haven’t upset you,’ I said after a moment, looking up.

‘No.’ Patrick met my gaze again. ‘It’s important we speak freely and you ask whatever you wish. You will become very close to me and Michael over the coming months. Not to talk of my condition would be like ignoring an elephant in the room. I wish Michael could talk more freely.’

‘How much does Michael understand of the severity of your condition?’ I now asked.

‘I’ve been honest with him, Cathy. I have told him I am very ill – that unfortunately the treatment didn’t work and I am unlikely to get better. But I don’t think he has fully accepted it.’

‘Does he talk about his worries to you?’

‘No, he changes the subject. I’m sorry he was rude earlier but he didn’t want to come here this evening.’

‘It’s understandable,’ I said. ‘There’s no need to apologize. Coming here has forced Michael to confront a future he can’t bear to think about – one without you. To be honest, since I heard about you and Michael I have tried to imagine what it would be like for Adrian and Paula to be put in Michael’s position, and I can’t. I can’t contemplate it. So if I, as an adult, struggle, how on earth does Michael cope? He’s only eight.’

‘By pretending it’s not happening,’ Patrick said. ‘He’s planning our next summer holiday. We always take – I mean we used to take – a holiday together in August, but I can’t see it happening this year.’

‘It might,’ I said. ‘You never know.’

‘Possibly, but I’m not giving Michael false hope.’

‘No, and I won’t either,’ I reassured him.

A cry of laughter went up from the room next door where the children were playing Sunken Treasure, followed by a round of applause. ‘I think someone has found treasure,’ I said.

Patrick’s eyes sparkled as he looked at me and said, ‘I think Michael and I have too.’

Chapter Six Lonely and Afraid

That evening Patrick and I continued talking for another hour while the children played. Our conversation grew easier and more natural as we both relaxed and got to know each other. We didn’t talk about the future again or his illness but about our separate pasts and the many happy memories we both had. He told me of all the good times he’d had as a child in Ireland and then with his wife, Kathleen. I shared my own happy childhood memories and then told him how I’d met John, my husband, and how we’d started fostering. I also told him of the shock and disbelief I’d felt when John had suddenly left me. I was finding Patrick very easy to talk to, as I think he did me.

‘Looking back,’ I said speaking of John’s affair, ‘I guess there were warning signs: the late nights at work, the weekend conferences. Classic signs, but I chose to ignore them.’

‘Which was understandable,’ Patrick said. ‘You trusted him. Trust is what a good marriage is based on.’

‘I’ve let go of my anger, but it will be a long time before I forgive him,’ I admitted.

Patrick nodded thoughtfully.

I made us both a cup of tea while the children continued playing board games; then when it was nearly 7.15 and the light outside was staring to fade, Patrick said, ‘Well, Cathy, I could sit here all night chatting with you but we’d best be off. Michael has school in the morning and I’m sure you have plenty to do.’

‘Will you be all right catching the bus?’ I said. ‘Or can I give you a lift?’

‘No, we’ll be fine, thank you. I’m sure you’d rather get started with your children’s bedtime routine.’

I smiled. As a single parent – having raised Michael alone for six years – Patrick was familiar with the bedtime routine of young children: of bathing, teeth-brushing, bedtime stories, hugs and kisses goodnight, etc. He was right: I did appreciate the opportunity of settling the children into bed rather than driving across town.

We went to the table where the children were now in the middle of a game of Monopoly. ‘Time to go, son,’ Patrick said.

‘Oh, can’t I finish the game first?’ Michael moaned good-humouredly. I was pleased to see he had now relaxed and was enjoying himself.

‘Next time,’ Patrick said. ‘You’ve got school tomorrow.’

Michael pulled a face and reluctantly stood. ‘Do you want some help packing away?’ he asked Adrian, which I thought was very thoughtful.

‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘We’ll do it. You and your dad need to get on the bus.’

Michael and his father used the bathroom first and then Adrian, Paula and I showed them to the front door and said goodbye.

‘Thanks, Cathy,’ Patrick said, taking my hand between his and kissing my cheek. ‘We’ve had a nice evening, haven’t we, Michael?’

Michael nodded. He looked a lot happier than he had done when he’d first arrived; his cheeks were flushed from the excitement of the games they’d played, and Adrian and Paula looked as though they’d enjoyed playing with Michael. All of which bode well for the future.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ Patrick said as he and Michael went down the front path. ‘Goodnight and God bless.’

‘And you,’ I called after them.

We watched them go and then I closed the front door. ‘All right?’ I asked the children. ‘Did you have a nice evening?’

‘Yes,’ Adrian said. ‘Michael’s OK.’

‘Is Michael’s daddy coming to live with us?’ Paula asked. ‘No, only Michael,’ I said. ‘What made you think that?’ Paula looked thoughtful, clearly having been working something out. Then she said, ‘If Michael’s daddy came to live with us, you could look after him and make him better. You make me better when I’m ill. Then when he’s better we can all live together, and Michael will have a mummy again, and we’ll have a daddy.’

Adrian tutted.

I smiled and gave her a hug. If only life were that simple, I thought. ‘It’s a bit more complicated than that,’ I said. ‘And you have a daddy: it’s just that he doesn’t live with us any more.’